THE CAST.

Eadan Cousland, the eldest scion of an impoverished noble house

willing to do anything to reclaim his house’s lost honor.

Artovas Nuren, a wayward mage in denial of a horrible truth.

Varena Sunfathom, devote and stellar, she was sent to the front lines
to exempt her church from crippling taxation.
 Blood, blood in the air, the first day the clouds were dyed the color of
rust, their air grew dense, the breeze ran cold…

Three days later, in a moonless night, a dark wave swept through the
countryside, the screams were drowned by the sound of clashing steel and
crackling flame...

But a week after, when the ash rained freely and death danced along the
breeze the madness came, fear, anger, frustration. Kingdoms crumbled and
chaos erupted, a spiraling descent into impending demise…

It took only a month: The banners were burnt, the land was ravaged, its
people enslaved, dead or worse. They came to take, to conquer, to destroy that
which they didn’t want, the first kingdom fell as a warning, a threat to all…

They were coming…

 Thunder roared within darkened clouds pregnant with
lightning, its electric tendrils striking the restless see as if to incite its
anger.

A hundred ships ride the enraged waves of the blackened sea,

their decks a blur of motion as sailors and soldiers alike struggle
against the forces of nature to stay afloat.

No one speaks, for the salty breeze beats with the force of a
hammer’s blow, the rain above stings like needles of frost, they are
tense, a mantle of fog sweeps the surface of the water, there’s no land
on sight.

Conscripts and veterans, knights and cutthroats, the mightiest

fleet the red continent had ever seen braves the perilous sea like lambs
to the slaughter, for they are the spear of their homes, vanguard, and
the enemy they must meet is no man, elf or dwarf, but cruel hellions
spawned from somewhere not even the gods dare speak.

“Land ahead!” roared an unseen watchman from atop the

galleon’s mast, Eadan couldn’t see it from where he stood on the deck,
the rain was ceaseless, his helmet was soaked, his chainmail was too
tight, too heavy, before him an angry officer yells every order,
reprimanding the crew for the smallest mistakes, he expects the assault
to fail, but Eadan didn’t listen, none of the warriors aboard the “Ghar’s
Pride” did.

“Do you believe getting struck by lightning would kill you before your
body can register the pain?” asked the man behind him, voice barely
heard under the torrential downpour.

While most ignored the odd question, Eadan couldn’t stop

himself from turning, livid, how could this man belittle this moment
with his silliness!
 “Cease your banter. Have you sense?!” he cried, barely holding his
ground as the violent waves rocked the boat left and right, lowering
his head to be at eye level with the interloper.

“Just like at them, falling like tendrils of molten light, ¿how can you
not be curious?” answered the weird man.